


Promises (That May Never Be Kept)

by being_alive



Series: The Befores, The Afters, and The Inbetweens [1]
Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare, Romeo et Juliette - Presgurvic, Rómeó és Júlia (Színház)
Genre: F/M, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 10:49:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15683910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/being_alive/pseuds/being_alive
Summary: Your eyes fall upon him and see that the rumors are true, or at least that they have to be true because Tybalt is sitting on his bed, polishing his sword, which wouldn't be abnormal except for the fact that today is Monday and he never usually polishes it until Tuesday."So it is true," you say, looking from the sword up to Tybalt's face."What is true?" Tybalt questions in return, sheathing his sword and setting it aside."That you're going to challenge the Montague named Romeo to a duel this afternoon," you reply.





	Promises (That May Never Be Kept)

**Author's Note:**

> I've missed writing about Tybalt.

You run up the stairs, taking them nearly two at a time in your desperation to reach Tybalt's room. You've heard whispers that he's going to challenge Roméo Montague to a duel later today and you need to know for yourself if he really is going to do something so foolish. Once you reach his room, you don't even bother to knock and instead simply throw the door open. You know that normally he'd chide you about your manners, but you don't care about manners right now. All you care about is him. Your eyes fall upon him and see that the rumors are true, or at least that they have to be true because Tybalt is sitting on his bed, polishing his sword, which wouldn't be abnormal except for the fact that today is Monday and he never usually polishes it until Tuesday.

"So it is true," you say, looking from the sword up to Tybalt's face.

"What is true?" Tybalt questions in return, sheathing his sword and setting it aside.

"That you're going to challenge the Montague named Romeo to a duel this afternoon," you reply.

"Oh, that," he says, far too casually.

"Yes, that!" You exclaim, placing your hands on your hips as you glare at him.

"That is true. I am going to challenge the boy to a duel," Tybalt replies.

"All for coming to the party?" You ask, skeptically.

"All for coming to a party to which he had received no invitation, and for being a Montague where no Montagues are wanted," Tybalt spits back, his gaze growing heated as he glowers at you.

"And what of the Prince's decree? You'll be put to death," you say, fixing him with a glare of your own.

"That was a bluff to scare us into submission and nothing more," Tybalt states with a dismissive flick of his hand.

"And if it wasn't?" You ask in return, crossing your arms. Tybalt's frown deepens as he thinks for a moment before stating, simply, "Then Lady Capulet will appeal for me, and Lord Capulet will have no choice but to side with her, and I will be spared. Or if that doesn't work, then I'm sure they would be able to get Count Paris to speak on my behalf, because you know as well I do of his desire to have Juliet as his wife."

You shake your head in disbelief because he makes it all sound so simple even when you know it isn't, not really.

"After this is done, I think you and I should get married," Tybalt says, abruptly, looking up at you, all vestiges of anger gone from his face. You know he's just trying to keep you from worrying about him, but the thought of that is too good for you to ignore as you laugh and reply, "Lord and Lady Capulet will be furious that their beloved nephew Tybalt wants to marry a servant."

"Let them be angry. Better a servant than a Montague," he says, standing up and walking towards you. He stops just in front of you and you look up at him, remembering how you first met him. You'd both been no more than children at the time. Your parents were hired to work in the kitchen, and you were given the task of becoming a companion for Juliet Capulet, a girl just a few years younger than you who happened to be the daughter of Lord and Lady Capulet. Juliet's Nurse had taken you upstairs to meet Juliet and Tybalt had been with Juliet. Juliet, tiny and blonde and pretty, was delighted to have a new friend, and Tybalt had simply looked at you. 

He had seemed so dashing even then, a tall boy dark among the fair Capulets and with a sword at his hip. He hadn't stayed with you and Juliet and her Nurse for long, but his eyes had never left you and he had kissed your hand as he left. You think that was when you'd started falling in love with him, even though you had just met him and you know you shouldn't have because he's the nephew of Lady Capulet and you're just a servant but that was many years ago now and you and he have moved far past the point of no return. Juliet had become your friend, but Tybalt had become so much more than just your friend.

"Say yes," he says, dropping to one knee in front of you and taking one of your hands in his, peering up at you, his dark eyes full of love and a strand of black hair falling across his forehead. You reach out with your free hand and brush the strand from his face, and say, "Yes. Yes, I'll marry you."

Tybalt kisses your hand and then stands, smiling widely, and kisses your lips. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him in return. Before you even fully realize he's doing it, Tybalt has lifted you up and is carrying you over to his bed. He parts from the kiss to set you down, and you can't help but miss the feeling of his lips against yours. You lay back and Tybalt lays beside you. For a moment, you simply look at one another and then you ask, teasingly and with a smile, "Isn't me being in your bed supposed to happen after the wedding?"

"I think that would only really matter if I hadn't taken you to bed prior to this," he replies, moving to straddle your hips and kiss you again. You undress him and he undressed you and as he touches you and kisses you and then enters you, all thoughts of the duel vanish from your mind and are replaced by thoughts solely of him and what you and he are doing right now and of how he makes love to you. You lose track of the time as Tybalt moves above you and inside of you, but it still feels all too soon when you reach your peak, crying out around him, your nails leaving crescent-shaped indentations on the smooth skin of his back. Not long after, he too reaches his peak, spilling inside of you before pulling out and away to lay down beside you. You breathe heavily, sated beyond belief though with your worries starting to return to you along with excitement over the possibility of being the wife of Tybalt Capulet. You roll onto your side and find him already looking at you, close enough to feel as he breathes.

"I promise you that I will return to you, and I promise you that when I do, you and I shall be married," Tybalt says, resting his forehead against yours.

"Please don't do this," you say, voice thick, "We can get married without you having to fight the Montague."

"You know that I must do this," Tybalt replies, softly, reaching up to cup your face in his hand. "For my honor as a Capulet, honor that will be yours as well."

You've never put much stock in family honor, and why would you? Your parents are kitchen workers, not the brother-in-law of a Lord and his foreign wife. You know Tybalt too well to know that it's more that this is what he wants to do than something that he must do, honor or not. 

"I love you," you say, because you do love him, for all his flaws and his honor, because he's given you many reasons time and time again to love him, and because you're far from flawless yourself.

"And I love you," Tybalt says, and kisses you. For this moment, you're happy just to be with him and you can pretend that all is right in your world. Far too soon, he parts from you and gets out of bed, searching for his clothes. You follow his lead with a sigh and search for your clothes as well.

"Let me come with you, at least," you say once both you and he are dressed again, you in your simple dress and he in his fine clothes and his sword at his hip.

"No," Tybalt says, simply, softly, walking to stand in front of you. He looks so handsome, and you're reminded again of the first time you met him. He was a boy then and a man now, a man who is actually planning to do something with the sword at his hip. You didn't think he would let you come with him, because you know you'd just be a distraction, but still, you had to ask. He bends, resting his forehead against yours, and you reach up, cupping his face in your hands. You can feel the softness of his skin and just the slightest hint of stubble under your hands, but mostly you just feel him, the man you love who is about to do perhaps the most foolish thing he's ever done in his life.

"I promise that I will return from this duel. For you," Tybalt says, his dark eyes peering into yours.

"I'm going to hold you to that," you say, a hint of a smile on your face. Tybalt smiles as well as he replies, "When have you ever known me to break a promise?"

"Never," you say softly in return, and kiss him once more. He returns the kiss but pulls away first, and away from you. 

"I love you," he says, and then he's leaving, walking away from you and out the door, to seek Roméo. You stand in the doorway, watching him go until you he's too far away for you to see him. There's nothing for you to do now but wait, so you do, walking around aimlessly. You look for Juliet and her Nurse, but you're unable to find either of them. You curse the fact that today, of all days, they both seem to be unavailable. You visit your parents in the kitchens, but they're too busy for you to stay for long so you simply return to your wandering and waiting. You're not sure how much time passes, whether it's hours or simply minutes, but it feels like an eternity. 

Eventually, a serving man walks by you, his eyes red as if he has been crying. Your heart drops into your stomach as you grab his arm to stop him. All you can think of is Tybalt.

"Why do you look so distraught?" You ask, peering up at him.

"Have you not heard the news?" He says in return, his eyes meeting yours.

"What news?" You ask, your heart sinking even lower.

The serving man looks away from you as if in shame and replies, "Tybalt is dead."


End file.
